Thanks for the Help
by Lover's Reason
Summary: Emily/Damon. Set after the end of Between a Rock and a Hard Place, ignores the following episodes.
1. Chapter 1

Starts after Ep. 6, Emily/Damon

* * *

Emily took a deep breath as she prepared to walk into The Pizza Shack. Damon would be there, and this would be the first time they met since he had indicated his feelings so blatantly on her doorstep. Yet again, she tugged on the skirt she was wearing and cursed her mother for pushing it on her, going on about femininity and legs…

The first few moments were awkward, but soon business caught up with them and she was able to keep busy. Unfortunately, she could avoid him, but she could do nothing to escape his stare, unreadable in its intensity. But nothing came of it until closing, when they were the last two in the Shack wiping tables. As she turned away from the one she was wiping, she practically ran into him. Starting, she backed up a step and averted her eyes.

"I thought you were going to leave me alone," she said.

Damon approached her slowly, just dangerous enough to be sexy. "Now, what would have given you that idea?"

"Um, bros over hoes?"

He laughed softly, "You said that, Emily, not me. I just said that I couldn't be your friend. You know me well enough to know that that means the exact opposite. You're kidding yourself. Razor… well… I'll deal with him when the time comes."

"Damon, I really just need to focus…" she was cut off by his kiss.

_This_ should have been her first kiss. She could feel the difference, feel how much he meant it. She could even feel the insecurity he hid so well, the desperation that she not reject him. It was that innocence that broke her. She brought her hands to his head and responded to him ardently.

When he was sure she would not break away, Damon dropped his hands to her waist. Gently he picked her up so she was sitting on the table. She was surprised at his strength; with all her muscle she wasn't exactly light. He broke away from her mouth and immediately began kissing her cheek and jaw, over to the soft skin below her earlobe. When he began to suck on her earlobe, she gasped and arched toward him. He used her distraction as an opportunity to move his hands to her bare knees and gently pull her legs apart to get closer to her.

Emily was thoroughly enjoying the make-out session, but she was still shocked when she felt a lump pressed between her legs. Unfortunately (Or maybe fortunately, she couldn't tell), Damon was making it difficult for her to think straight long enough to listen to the voice in her head screaming _Bad idea, bad idea!_

Damon was a little shocked at Emily. At the fact that she hadn't pushed him away yet. This was way to easy…

"Come on, Emily," he growled. He suckled on her neck gently. "You aren't going to let me do this, are you? You're not a typical Rock girl, remember?" He bit down, not quite hard enough to leave a lasting mark, and she moaned. His hands dropped to the outside of her thighs, and he began slowly pushing her skirt up her legs.

Emily knew she should stop him, but she was too dizzy with pleasure to find the words, or even to want to.

"Tell me to stop, Emily," he whispered, even as he licked the spot he had just bitten. His hands continued their journey upward even as they rolled over to the inside of her legs. "I won't stop until you ask me to," he said, back to her ear. "Tell me to stop."

Stop, yes. Emily's brain finally locked onto that word like a life raft in the sea of unmentionables. "Stop," she finally gasped. Taking a deep breath, she said, "We have to stop."

In an instant, he was off of her. Her body received a shock at the sudden loss of contact, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. She felt a hand on her chin, and she opened her eyes in time to see Damon kiss her forehead gently. He turned and left the building, but not before calling over his shoulder, "You should wear skirts more often."

~*~

That night, after Emily had managed to fend off her mother's questions with claims of being tired, she went to bed. She actually wasn't tired at all: every nerve in her body was a live wire. That whole day she had avoided thoughts of what had happened, and even more of what might have happened afterward. But now, lying in bed alone, she allowed herself to consider it. Everything always seemed so much less real when she was in bed in the dark, and this was the only time she could relax without feeling guilty. So she let herself imagine what could have happened between them as her hand drifted down between her legs.

~*~

Emily stood in her room the next afternoon, facing her closet. She had on her Pizza Shack shirt and was currently trying to decide between her usual black pants and a grey knee-length skirt. She couldn't believe that suddenly one piece of clothing could have so much riding on it. Did she want to send Damon the message that she was fine with what had happened, or that it was a mistake? That she wanted him in her life, or all she needed was gymnastics? After another moment's consideration she grabbed the skirt and put it on before she had time to reconsider.

~*~

When she got to work they were already to swamped for socialization, but she did catch Damon's eye long enough for him to give her a once-over and a wink, indicating silently that he understood and appreciated her choice of apparel. When things calmed down, she walked over and stood by him as he made pizzas.

"So, I probably shouldn't, but I have to ask. What was that last night?"

"That?" he said, exactly the same way he had when he kissed her the first time, infuriatingly casual. He shrugged, and said, "Just helping you out with those late-night fantasies."

Emily was shocked into silence. Whatever she was expecting, that was not it. It took her a moment to gain enough composure to stop looking incredibly guilty and turn to him. He wasn't even looking at her. For a second she was angry enough at his conceit to forget how embarrassed she was.

"What the hell do you know, huh? What on Earth makes you think I-"

"Oh please," Damon cut her off, finally turning toward her. "You can't possibly live through all that pressure without _someone_ taking care of you. Since I know it's not a guy, you must be doing it yourself. Unless the Rock team is closer than I thought…"

Now Emily's anger had subsided again into sheer mortification. She turned back to the counter. "You don't know what you're talking about," she said. He followed her.

"No, I think I do," he said softly. He ran the back of one finger over her cheek. "See, there," he said, indicating the redness on her cheeks. "You're a terrible liar. I bet you were fantasizing about me even before I kissed you." She remained silent, but her intensified blush was not lost on him. Sensing that she wasn't going to respond, he just kept talking.

"It's not the same with Razor, is it? No, no, he's too sweet. Too gentle. He wouldn't ever give it to you like you need it. You already equate pleasure and pain, why else would you want to be an Olympic gymnast? You need it rough." He stepped closer, once again stifling her with pheromones. "And believe me, Emily, one day I intend to give it to you."

Then he stepped away and she could breathe again. "So why didn't you?" she called after him. He stopped, surprised. "Last night," she went on. "Why did you tell me to tell you to stop?"

He paused briefly to be amused at the syntax, then turned to her. "Because you didn't really want it. With Nationals coming up, I would just have hurt you. Just because I plan to make you scream my name someday doesn't mean I don't care about you. Just the opposite, in fact. You would have regretted it, which would have defeated the entire purpose." Again, he turned to walk away.

"Thanks," she said quietly. He stopped but didn't turn around. In that word, he heard everything. Thanks for understanding. Thanks for caring. Thanks for giving me something to look forward to when my gymnastics career is over. And one more thing that really made him smile. Thanks for the help.


	2. Chapter 2

Here you go. I was planning for it to be a one-shot, but I got a pretty good response, so...

Mild warning, there's some more suggestive stuff here. Not too bad, since I'm a firm believer that one person's fantasy is another's disgust. So just use your imagination...

* * *

So Emily and Damon entered into a comfortable sort of rapport, working together on week days and spending time together after the Pizza Shack closed talking and walking around Boulder. Their relationship hovered in some strange place between friendship and dating, but it didn't cause either of them stress. To an observer, it would appear to be friendship, but every once in a while he would do something to take her breath away with arousal. "Help", as he referred to it casually.

On one such occasion, he had her pushed up against a wall in the Shack and was teasing her by refusing to kiss her. His lips remained a few sultry inches above hers, and he would move away whenever she moved in on him.

"Ah, ah," he whispered to her as he dodged her kiss yet again. "You aren't allowed to kiss boys, remember?"

Finally, fed up, Emily put her hands on his chest and used her considerable strength to shove him off of her. For a second, Damon looked a little hurt, until she grabbed him by the lapels and turned him against the wall, claiming his lips roughly. The kiss lasted several seconds, and would have been longer if a voice hadn't interrupted.

"So that's the way it is, huh?" Emily broke away from Damon and turned to see Razor standing in the doorway, looking upset and betrayed.

~*~

Razor stood in the doorway, watching the guy he thought was his best friend seduce the girl of his dreams. So much for brothers. He imagined that Emily looked uncomfortable but from the angle he was at he couldn't really see her face. All he could see was Damon's back, the confident posture, the hand that gripped her waist like he owned her. His jaw clenched in fury as Damon whispered something in her ear.

Razor felt a moment of vindication and triumph as Emily shoved Damon away, but that triumph quickly gave way to consternation as she pulled him around and kissed him hard. So, not uncomfortable, then. Razor could barely stand to watch her do that, every millisecond was breaking his heart. He interrupted, unable to watch any longer.

"So that's the way it is, huh?"

The two of them sprang apart, and both looked at him. Razor's eyes passed briefly over Damon's, but he didn't want to see the shame there. It only increased his fury at his former friend. So he stared at Emily, thinking that looking at her would make him feel better. But it only made it much, much worse.

Rather than springing away from Damon in guilt, Emily clung to him as though to protect him. And her eyes held no remorse, only pity. In a split second he understood the message she was sending him, and finally his sorrow overtook his anger. He made a choking noise and fled the room.

~*~

Emily watched as the look on Razor's face changed from anger to pain, and then as he ran out of the room. She moved to follow him, but Damon held her back.

"Don't," he said sharply. She pulled against him.

"But-"

"What do you think you can say to him? Nothing you can say can make it better."

"But it's not what he thinks. We aren't dating…"

"You're right, it's not what he thinks. It's much worse, for him. Because this is long term, babe, whether you know it or not. It's not normal, maybe not healthy either, but it's not going away." She looked into his eyes solemnly. Suddenly this conversation had changed course, become one she had been avoiding.

"I know," she said quietly. "You're right."

Damon gave her a lopsided smile that did not give away the utter joy he felt. Even though he had probably just lost his best friend, he had gained something more precious. A future with Emily, one she acknowledged and accepted. She didn't seem thrilled about it, but he didn't expect her to. She wasn't one to be thrilled about giving her heart up. Besides, he knew that would come in time.

~*~

When Damon finally walked Emily to her doorstep that night, it was very late. After unlocking the door, she turned back to Damon.

"Come on in," she said. For the first time since she had met him, he looked a little shy.

"Eh, I should get going."

"Going where? Don't you and Razor and Jasper share an apartment?"

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly sure, actually…"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Come in," she said again. "You can stay here until you get it figured out. My mom and brother went out of town to go to some specialized physical therapist. Besides, my mother would be thrilled anyway." Damon chuckled at that.

"Thrilled that her underage daughter has a boy staying over?"

"Yep. She thinks I'm too mature. She _wishes_ I would misbehave," said Emily as she put up her things.

"So then, let's misbehave," he said, and she turned around in time for him to grab her around the waist and pick her up. She shrieked in surprise as he carried her over to the bed a few feet away and dropped her on it.

She hit the middle of the bed lying down but quickly sat up, trying to fight where this was going while she still had the mental clarity to do so. Damon was straddling her with his hand still on her waist.

"Um, do you want something to eat?" she asked, trying to change the subject, but he wasn't paying very much attention. His hands were simultaneously urging her to lie down again and raising her shirt up to right underneath her breasts.

"Yes," he replied as he began to lay kisses on her bare stomach. A shiver rolled over her body as she heard the implication.

Damon kissed lower and lower, in awe at her soft, creamy skin. When he got to the waistband of her pants, he stopped and looked up at her. Her eyes were closed and, to his chagrin, she seemed very close to hyperventilating. He immediately stopped everything and pulled himself up to her head.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." He cupped her face in one hand, and she opened her eyes. "Don't just lie there and let me do something you aren't comfortable with. Say something."

She looked a little distressed. "No, it's not that. I mean, I'm not- It's not what-" she gulped and took a deep breath. "I have trust issues. I really do want this. Just- letting go so much makes me nervous." When he was sure she was done. He kissed her tenderly.

"I really do care about you, Emily. I won't hurt you."

"I know," she said. "That's the only reason I didn't run two weeks ago." He buried his face in the crook of her neck and began to kiss her there. "However," she continued with a smile, "you might want to rethink your concept of 'rough'."

He laughed and shook his head. "Oh, no. That's not happening tonight. That's not happening for a long while, not until after your gymnastics stuff is done. No," he reached down with the arm he wasn't leaning on and wrapped it around her waist. "I just figured you might have gotten tired of taking care of yourself all this time. Might appreciate someone doing it for you for a change."

She looked intently at him, then closed her eyes and nodded.

"We'll go slow," he whispered.

~*~

The next day, Damon disappeared for a few hours and came back with a duffel bag and a guitar case. Emily was in her house, as it was Sunday, and she was enjoying a few rare hours of leisure. She got up to answer his knock.

"Hey. You haven't changed your mind about me staying here, have you?"

"Of course not," she said, smiling. He walked in and dropped his stuff by the bed they had both slept on the previous night. "What's that?" she asked.

"Just all my worldly possessions," he said, hoisting the guitar case onto the bed and opening it. He pulled out a black guitar and turned to sit on the bed, gesturing for her to sit beside him. Then he began to strum absentmindedly. When he hit a chord he liked, he played it a few more times.

"Hear that?" he asked, as he strummed. "That is the sexiest sound in the entire world." His eyes were closed, so Damon couldn't see the mischief that suddenly lit up Emily's eyes.

"Really?" she asked. "I'd be willing to take you up on that." He turned to face her, his eyes bright at the challenge. He gave her a skeptical eyebrow.

"Go for it," he said, turning back to his guitar.

Emily leaned over and put her mouth scant millimeters from his ear. "Oh, God," she said, very softly. "Oh, yes, yes." She laughed inside. She might not be a sex kitten, but she had at least seen _When Harry Met Sally_. "Ah, Damon!" At that point, he stopped playing, stunned. Hearing his name on her lips was unbelievably arousing. With all the other men in the picture, it carried a lot of meaning. "Ooh, right there, yes. Yes, Damon, oh, God!" She continued along in this thread for another minute or two, complete with moans and gasps. But the way she said his name, in this breathy voice that was straight out of one of his fantasies, that was what did it for him.

Emily was having a great time. She could see what she was doing to him; it was great to know that she could get him worked up without even touching him. It made her feel powerful. When she got done she moved away a little, expecting him to say something. Wordlessly, he took his guitar by the neck and put it down beside them.

Then, in a move so swift she didn't see it coming, he tackled her and threw her down on her back with him on top of her. He straddled one of her legs, so she could feel exactly what she had done to him. His mouth came to the spot where her jaw became her neck and he began to suck and lick the area aggressively. She arched, surprised and excited by this side of him that she had never seen before.

"Again," he said, his voice rough and demanding. "Say my name again."

She smiled a little at having found this weak spot of his. But then he bit her, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to send chills down her spine, and she relented.

"Damon," she moaned, "oh, Damon, Damon."

"That's right, baby. Not Razor. Not rich-college-boy, no-" he bent his knee, pushing his thigh up between her legs.

"Damon!"

"Emily," he said, but now the harshness was gone from his voice. Their movement against each other subsided and they took a moment to calm down. Both of them were panting, and both clearly still excited. Now the feelings were just smoldering, pushed back under the surface where they usually were.

After another moment of eye contact, Emily's hand slipped in between them to the hardness still pressed against her hip. She cupped him through his pants and started to massage gently with the heel of her hand. Damon closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, then grabbed her hand.

"Emily," he said, and now his voice carried something of a warning.

"You don't think I intended to get you all wound up and not follow through, did you?"

He pulled that hand up to their chests and held onto it. "You don't need to do that. Trust me, the last 24 hours have been enough to get me off for a _long_ time." Emily supposed she should be disgusted, but the knowledge that late-night fantasies were a mutual thing was actually very sexy. She tugged her hand out of his grasp and rolled them over so she was on top.

"Maybe I wanted to do that," she whispered. She got up onto her knees and raised his shirt, kissing the fine hairs on his stomach, exactly the way he had done to her the night before. When her hands came to the button on his jeans, he was way beyond trying to stop her.

* * *

There you go. Please review!


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